


The Letters That We Wrote

by pretty0dd_semisweet



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Romance, This is really sad, funeral speech, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretty0dd_semisweet/pseuds/pretty0dd_semisweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He gave me his heart, his love, his life. You took his heart, his love, his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letters That We Wrote

“I’m not supposed to say those words just was we’re not supposed to be here. We are, though.

I wish I wasn’t. I wish I would have been there before, not here, not now. This is just the result of a long time suffering, a long time ignoring, a long time of being blind. You were all blinded by the light that illuminated him, you all thought it was lighting him his way. Actually it was his own supernova, his implosion.

We all knew something was wrong. You thought it was him, you thought he was wrong. Twisted and wretched. Just like you are now.

The worst thing is that we would be able to help when people ask us. Well, we should. Nobody did. No matter how hard you cry, no matter how deep your scars are, it’s always a cry for attention unless you end up dead. This is what we’ve become, and you see what it has made out of us. The deepest scars are not important unless you’re bleeding on someone else’s property, the saltiest tears are not worth it unless they’re soaking someone’s clothes.

I’ve learnt a lot from him. He told me that I’m worth all of this. That I deserve all of this. What made him think that he didn’t?

We probably all know. It was our attitude, our heartlessness, our selfishness. I include myself, because I probably could have helped him more than I did. It’s killing me, it’s breaking me, it’s hurting me.

Another thing that’s hurting me is you’re appearance. Why are you here? You never cared. I know you never did? Do you care now? Well, I don’t think so. Is it the hurt in my eyes that makes you come here, is it the satisfaction that you’ve felt each time that you’ve made us feel like we were worthless.

He had always told me about this clock that was ticking inside him. First I thought it broke. Now I understand it. It was a time bomb. It was ticking away, just like he was fading away. He exploded, his broken pieces leaving splinters in our bruised hearts and minds.

Those pieces bring me to another thing that I need to get off my chest.

At some point we wrote those letters. It was his idea. I can still remember his words. “I want us to write letters, Frank. Letters that will survive us.” The idea was that we would give our letter to each other and keep them until the day would come that we would part. He didn’t say what he meant with that, but I knew that he meant dying. He probably knew that I would be the one to open the letter, not him. He knew that he wouldn’t stay. I guess I knew it myself, but as I said before, I was blind. We were blind.

You know what his letter said? I won’t tell you most of it, it was personal. But there is one part which I can’t hide from you. It would be unfair. For you, for him.

I don’t have the letter with me, if you’re thinking about that. I burnt it. It was his wish for me to burn it and I did as he said. I don’t need it to recite the words anyway, I know them by heart.

“I won’t apologize for all of this. I was never as selfish as I am now, but at some point I think I deserve to be selfish. I’ve given as much as I’ve taking, the value of that is something you have to define yourself.”

The question is, what did he take and what did he give? Do you know it? Because I do.

He gave me his heart, his love, his life. You took his heart, his love, his life.

Think about that. I’m not here to convict you, I’m here to make you rethink you’re verdict about him.

“I’m not dying to leave, I’m dying to remain.”

Those were the last words of his letter.

It makes me sick that he thought that this was the only way to be remembered. That all of this was the only solution, the answer to the question. How are we able to make a person feel so unwanted? How was I able to make him feel like this.

I know the most of you never accepted us. I know you would have never accepted us. But what were we doing that was so wrong? It was love. How could love be so wrong? Just because we were to boys? Because that is what we were. Two boys, not monsters. What did he do to deserve this, what did I do? What did we do? We loved each other. We still do.

Every night I pray to god that he’s feeling better where he is now. I don’t know if there is a heaven, but if there is one, he will be one of the purest angels god has ever seen. Wherever you are, I hope you feel better, do you hear me? I still love you and I always will. You will keep on living, in me, in the pieces that you left behind, the memories. I just want you to know that you will never be forgotten. I would have never forgotten you anyways, I promise. I promised you. I don’t break the promises I make, did you forget about that?

I loved him. I really did. I don’t care what you think, I never did, just as he cared to much.

If he was a sinner I was his sin.

Now, it would only be unfair to tell what he has written in his letter, so I will read mine to you. I picked it up at his house, it was unopened. I guess he never read it.

“Dear Gerard,

I write this letter to you because you wanted me to. I would have never written it because I would have never let you go, I still never would. You are the beat of my heart, I am the paintbrush for your art. I can’t live without you, I couldn’t and I wouldn’t want to. I will forever try to save you. You are the most valuable thing in my life, I promise you, I will never let you go just as I will never go. I’ll be your savior whenever you need one, I’ll be your light whenever you can’t find the path back home, I’ll be the the fire that keeps burning inside you. I love you and I forever will.”

Every day I regret it that I didn’t read his letter earlier. I regret that I didn’t make him read mine.

But the thing that I regret the most is that I couldn’t save him.

Gerard, I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you.”

The tears were flowing down the boys face as he lit up the paper of the letter in his hand, the flames destroying the words that he had written but never had reached the person that they belonged to. He let go of the paper, it fell into a bowl of stone and kept burning bright. When nothing but the ashes were left he turned around to the casket and swallowed down the tears. The audience behind his back, he lifted up the casket lid and looked at the pale skin, even paler skin than when he had been alive, of the boy he had loved. He slowly let the ashes flutter down onto the pale skin until nothing was left.

One particle had landed on the older boys lips and with shivering fingers the crying boy reached out and brushed it away, a tear landing on the cheek of the dead corpse, rolling down the dead skin. It looked like the boy that was lying in the casket was crying.

Leaning back again, the younger boy whispered

“I’m sorry.”


End file.
